


End to a bluster

by Angelicasdean



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Arthur Morgan Lives, BAMF Arthur Morgan, Character Death, Hosea is just like...huh..., Major Character Injury, Not Beta Read, Not Canon Compliant, Spoilers, angry dutch, as usual nothing new there, but like he gets over it, duels, idk how to tag this, its micah, micah gets what he deserves, stubborness leads to death apparently, v short fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2020-11-25 22:46:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20919872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelicasdean/pseuds/Angelicasdean
Summary: It was about time, if Arthur was completely honest.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> sorry to all Micah stans, but here's a little OOC fic.

It was about time if Arthur was completely honest.

Micah had been all bluster for the entire day, some drunkard had dueled him in Valentine and it was all cheers from Micah because he managed to get a bullet in him. Arthur knows the drunk man, he had tried to duel Arthur before, and he hadn’t even managed to stay upright long enough to draw. He can imagine the state he was in when he met Micah, but Micah being himself, forgot to mention that part.

Now, it’s known around camp that duels are…prohibited. It’s not a _rule_ but an unspoken promise between the men and women of the camp. No one wants to haul a dead camp member because they got too in their heads about their egos.

But _goddamn_ is Micah testing Arthur’s limits.

Polishing his gun like it’s made of gold and sneering at Uncle and John and any man who passes by. If there’s one thing he can be thankful for, it’s that he’d been busy most of the day with Hosea and Dutch, and hadn’t had to deal with Micah for the entire morning.

Eventually, though, his luck ran out, and tiredness had pulled him towards the campfire; where, unfortunately, Micah resided. Uncle was quiet, which meant that either he’s drifting to sleep, or he’s upset. By the look on John’s face and Tilly’s frown, he can safely say Micah had something to do with the tense atmosphere.

“Hey, y’all,” he greets gently, lowering himself to the log beside Tilly and taking out his knife and a wooden stick to whittle. Hopefully, Micah will not bother him _too _much. It’s been a long day of running around trying to get an oil wagon out of that damn Cornwall factory without turning into swiss cheese, helping Dutch devise a plan to get them into the pockets of the rich, and running around looking for game for Pearson.

And seeing Mary.

That may have been the most draining of all.

Still, he knows himself. He knows that sleep will not grace him until he’s a blink away from oblivion and that usually rolls around dawn. On good days.

“You know, Morgan,” and there it is.

It’s only been two minutes since he’d sat down, a new personal record for Micah. Arthur is still annoyed. He’d hoped for five at the least.

“Yes, Micah?” Arthur forces himself to play along, and it was almost impossible for him not to grit his teeth as the arrogant ass starts to talk again.

“Won a duel today, marks my fiftieth won,” He starts, “what about you?”

“I don’t count my duels, Micah,” Arthur replies curtly, knowing full well that Micah at _least _doubled the number for bragging rights. Isn’t it an honor thing not to lie about your kill count?

“Sure, you don’t…” he gets quiet for a second before starting again, “just find it interesting that _you’re _the gang’s best gunslinger, ain’t even known what your win count is”

“I never claimed to be the best, now, if you come to the conclusion yourself…”

“Oh come off it, Morgan, it’s well known, everybody says it,” Micah growls, unappeased.

“You said it, Tilly?” Arthur asks jokingly, and Tilly shakes her head with a hint of a coy smile, “I know Marston ain’t never goin’ to say I’m the best in something, so how ‘bout you, Uncle?”

“Oh, you know me, Arthur, don’t say nothing about anyone,” Uncle raises his beer bottle and Arthur nods.

“You wanna take a fourth voice?” Arthur asks rhetorically, and Micah scowls, “Fact is, Micah, not _all _of us is trying to prove something,”

“I ain’t proving nothing,” Micah shoots back, and Arthur gives him a dark glare.

“Then shut up about your stupid duel and stop bothering everyone around you, your presence is enough,” He says, and Micah frowns angrily.

And with that, Micah stands abruptly, and Arthur finally goes back to whittling.

-

It seems that, whenever he and Molly finally get a chance to speak, someone’s always interrupting. Arthur is beginning to think they’re purposefully doing it. He likes talking to Molly, even if sometimes she talks down to him, but he doesn’t even realize it, and most of the camp does it anyway. She’s smart, smarter than Dutch gives her credit for, and today they’d been talking about a book she’d asked to borrow from Hosea since all of Dutch’s books are more boring than staring at grass grow.

They’d just started getting into the conversation when Micah’s voice interrupts, and Arthur looks up from where’s he’s sitting by Molly, book open on his lap.

“Duel me,” Micah says, or more like demands, face hidden by the sunrays.

“What?” Arthur blurts, blinking in disbelief as even Molly stares at Micah in confusion.

“Duel me, to prove I ain’t no cheapshot,”

“Micah…”

“Come on, Morgan, lets duel, we’re outlaws, ain’t we?” Micah crosses his arms, and if Arthur had to match his stance to something, it’d be that of a petulant child’s.

“One of us will die,”

“As I say, you’re either a survivor or a loser. Life ain’t nothing but _winning _and _losing_,” Micah tells, stepping back when Arthur stands.

“And what am _I _supposed to say to Dutch when he finds out I shot you between your eyes?”

“Same as I will say when I shoot you right in the throat. It was fair game,” Micah shrugs, “We got our witnesses,” he motions towards Molly, who has taken to clutching the book they’d been discussing close to her chest.

He looks at her, sees the same wide-eyed expression he saw urgently wants to plaster onto his own face and thinks _this is one of the moments where Hosea would tell him to back down_.

“As much as I’d love to finally put an end to you, Micah,” Arthur sighs, stepping back from the other man and back again towards Molly, “Camp has rules,” _it isn’t really a rule_ he repeats internally.

Micah stares at him for a second, before sneering “Knew you was a coward,”

“Excuse me?” Arthur huffs, “Just ‘cause I play the game to Dutch’s rules, ain’t meaning I’m a _coward_. Shooting a blinded drunk and thinking it makes you great is _cowardly_ Micah, backing down is _smart._”

“Never knew you was the type to be smart,” Micah spits back, and a familiar thrum of anger beats its way through Arthur’s veins, alongside bitterness.

“Shut your mouth before change my mind and shoot you on the spot, _Micah Bell_,”

“Duel me, Morgan,” Micah insists, staring dead into Arthur’s eyes, and against his better judgment, Arthur accepts.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur faces the realization that his actions will have severe consequences.

The sun was shining on them, both Micah and Arthur already in position. John had joined to watch, a curious frown plastered on his face. They're just outside of camp, most of the gang are keeping an ear out from between the trees. Arthur knows, he sees the skirts and shoes peaking from behind trees every once in a while. 

Arthur truely doesn't know what to do, he knows it's a lose lose situation, either Micah dies and Dutch gets on his ass, or he dies and well... That weren't in his plans for tonight. 

He'll shoot the gun out of his hand, like he did to that other gunslinger who fancied his draw. 

"Ready?" Micah calls, "Should send a prayer right about now, Morgan," he adds, and God if Arthur can't imagine that slick annoying smirk on his ugly mug from afar. 

"Sure, send yours too," Arthur replies quietly, feeling less and less sure about this. He isn't doubting his skill, he's always been proud of his Quickdraw, but of the consequences. 

John yells for them to get ready, and Arthur takes a steady breath. Shoot for the arm, and then he'll appease Dutch. John raises his hand, and Arthur looks to Micah, who's tracing the handle of his gun. 

"Draw!" 

"_Stop_!" 

Arthur hesitates, looking to where Hosea's voice had echoes, hand handing in mid air with his pistol gripped tightly. He blinks, wincing when his left shoulder lit on fire, and he takes a step back and sucks in a sharp breath. 

"Arthur!" John shouts, taking a step towards him, but before he reaches him, Hosea is already grabbing his arm tightly. 

"What the hell were you thinking!" He shouts, and Arthur tries to push him away, his grip is making him feel small, like a disobedient child. And well, maybe he deserves to be held like that but his shoulder is _aching _goddamnit.

"I won!" Micah calls, back to the edge of the camp, "Fair and Square" 

"No," Arthur calls back, "There ain't nothing fair about that, Hosea distracted me," He argues, finally shaking out of Hosea's grip, "He called the draw off!" 

"Don't make excuses!" 

"This ain't an excuse if it's goddamn true," Arthur snarls, defensive more than he thought he would be. 

"We can go another round? But I ain't letting you live this time!" Micah grins, and Arthur sets his jaw. 

"Fine!" 

"No"

Hosea and he speak at the same time, and they share an angry glare at each other, "You could killed me!" Arthur says, and Hosea gives him an outright offended look. 

"You're the one dueling! _In camp!" _Hosea argues and Arthur shrinks on himself. 

"Micah's the one who challenged him," John pips in, "Molly and I heard it, Molly even saw it," 

"That ain't no excuse," Hosea grumbles and Arthur holsters his pistol, squeezing Hosea's shoulder. 

"I ain't backing down" 

"Well then I forbid you," Hosea stubbornly replies, "and besides, you're injured! You can't duel" 

"My right arm is fine," Arthur moves it to prove a point, "and you can't forbid me" 

"Don't test that," 

"Just let him be, Old man!" Micah calls, "if he dies, he dies, it's gonna be a bullet anyway, don't matter if it's now or later" 

"Shut the hell up, Micah," Hosea shouts back, rubbing at his temple, "Arthur" 

"Hosea," Arthur parrots, and Hosea gives him a look, "I'll try not to kill him, if it makes you feel better," 

"I'm not worried about him," Hosea says in a quiet voice, so only he can hear, "Just... This is reckless, Arthur" 

"Maybe so," Arthur replies, "But I won't let my reputation tarnish by him, you know he'll just go around sayin' shit" 

"You didn't care before," Hosea points out tiredly. 

"And I don't, now, but I ain't letting him do that to me willingly," Arthur grabs Hosea's hand, "I won't die" 

"You can't promise that" 

"I can, and I am," Arthur assures, "Let me do this" 

Hosea gives him a lasting look, then steps back, "I had no hand in this, when this is over, it's between you and Dutch," it's supposed to sound like a threat, but it's all the acceptance Arthur needs to finalize this duel. 

Micah stands again, and Arthur presses his wounded shoulder once, checking the bleeding before wiping the blood off and standing. 

John gives him a weary look, shouting for them to ready. Arthur gets ready, this time ignoring everything in favor of balancing his aim. 

"Draw!" 

Micah draw, and Arthur is surprised that, this time, he hadn't drawn with his right hand. He has barely less than a second to switch his aim, falling short on the shoulder and firing at his neck. The world seems to slow by a few notches while Arthur watches Micah's gun fall from his hand, and stumble back gurgling his own blood. There's a swirl of emotions inside him, mostly relief and shock. But he can slowly feel the dread seep in, making his head feel light when Micah stopped moving entirely. 

Dutch is going to kill him. 

Now that the dust settled, he can see how bad of a move that had been. If he had just drawn with his right hand...

Fuck.

Goddamit.

His shoulder burns and the shock settles in completely. He stumbles back a few steps, glancing behind him before he lowers himself to the ground. 

John and Hosea quickly stand beside him, careful hands on his shoulders, Hosea extra careful not to hurt him. 

"Hey, calm down," John whispers, kneeling, "Arthur?" 

"Dutch is gonna kill me," Arthur blurts out, "I'm so fucked, I'm dead," He glances up at Hosea, who gives him a sorry look. "I'm such a fool," he squeezes his shoulder, wincing when it burned even more. 

"We can think about that later," Hosea says, "Let's patch you up" 

"I can't go back there, are you kidding me?" Arthur stands, moving away from them, "Dutch knows I killed Micah, he'll shoot me too" 

"Don't be pessimistic," Hosea cajoles, "We can explain to him" 

"He won't listen, Hosea" 

"What do you want us to do? Let you bleed out?" John asks fiercely, and Arthur blinks when his focus went out. 

"I don't know, I just... I just..." 

"We'll burn that bridge when we get to it," Hosea tugs him, "you won't know how this will go if you aren't alive to witness it" 


End file.
